The Starry Void
by theatticdweller
Summary: "Can we just-can we stop being in the world for a bit?" Rachel reached for Quinn, who nodded and fell into her. Rachel rubbed Quinn's back and clutched her to her chest. "It's alright," she whispered. "It-It will be."
1. Prologue

**Author's note: I swear it wasn't this dark in my head, but it seemed like I should just go with it. Things should be looking up in the next few chapters, though, if things go even vaguely according to plan. Thankyou for reading! xx **

**Disclaimer: For better or worse, Glee's not mine.**

**1. Prologue**

Rachel had just picked up her book and settled her feet on the porch railing when there was a crunching of gravel on the drive. The spring growth of trees eclipsed everything beyond the bend, but she watched the curve until a car nudged into view. She squinted but couldn't see the driver through the shifting reflection of sky and forest in the windshield.

Blue's ears had perked up, but he didn't move from his bed. "Useless mutt," Rachel muttered, getting up and moving to stand in front of the door.

The car pulled up next to hers. The engine went quiet, and everything was again consumed by the sound of breeze-rippled leaves and songbirds.

The car's door released, paused, swung open. Quinn stepped out and shut the door; the sound echoed through the clearing around the cabin. Rachel pulled in a deep breath, flushing out all the cobwebs and dust that had settled in her lungs over the past weeks. She crossed her arms over her stomach and clutched her sides hard, until it felt like bruising.

She swallowed and bit her lip, pulled herself into the sting of it to ward off the hot tears gathering in her throat.

Quinn shook her head, then climbed the porch steps and pulled Rachel into her.

Rachel's lip gave under her teeth; the taste of copper was sharp on her tongue. "I'm really glad you're here," she choked out, tucking her nose into Quinn's shoulder.

Quinn's arms tightened around her, and she felt Quinn press a kiss to her hair and the accompanying stuttered sigh of hot breath.

.

"Can I get you a cup of coffee?" Rachel asked.

Quinn eased onto the couch on the porch. "That's alright," she said, looking out into the trees, "I've had three this morning already. My flight got in at six." She looked to where her hands sat clasped white on her lap, then up at Rachel. Her eyes were red-rimmed, drawn at the edges. "Just-sit. Please."

Rachel nodded and perched on the couch next to her. She sniffled and ran the back of a hand under her eyes then leaned over her lap, squeezing her hands between the bones of her knees.

"Come here," Quinn whispered, resting a hand on Rachel's thigh. Rachel turned into her; the fist in her throat pulsed. She pulled in a shaky breath and let Quinn wrap her up again.

"It's not that I'm not upset," Quinn said, "I just didn't know where you were. No one knew where you were. But-fuck-I didn't know-" She tucked her face to Rachel's skin and breathed her in.

"I didn't think," Rachel whispered.

"Clearly," Quinn said, with all the solidity of a dam in a flood. She sighed. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Rachel cleared her throat. "I just-I kinda freaked."

"Care to elaborate?"

Rachel sat up and pulled feet up, tucking her legs into criss-cross-applesauce. She took one of Quinn's hands between her own and ran a thumb over the knuckles, all the while teasing the bite mark in her lip. "I-" she paused and cleared her throat, "I don't really know what happened. I just panicked, I guess. It was three am and I couldn't breathe so I got in the car and drove up here. I left messages for everyone, though-I could just see Kurt phoning in a missing persons and what a shitstorm that would cause."

Quinn's hand tensed. She looked away, back to the tree line. "You didn't leave me a message," she said. Her voice broke off at the edges. "And Kurt's been calling and not getting an answer-I was calling and not getting an answer-"

"My cell drops service halfway up the drive. And, well, I wasn't exactly keen on checking my messages. I can imagine that Kurt is pretty upset with me."

"We can talk about him later," Quinn said. "I don't-why didn't you call?"

Rachel drew in a shaky breath. "After two months of silence, I didn't know if I should," she said shortly.

Quinn pulled away and dropped her head into her hands. "I didn't hear from you, either, Rachel."

"Don't you dare put this all on me, Quinn. I realize that it was childish-_cowardly_-to run off just because things got difficult. But don't for one second think that I haven't spent every night for the last two months thinking about you." Her voice was constricted by that fist in her throat. She wiped at her eyes.

The sounds from beyond the tree line consumed them. Rachel swallowed and ran a firm thumb over the hard bone of her knee.

"Is this falling apart?" Quinn finally asked.

"I don't know."

"Do you want it to be?"

"God, Quinn. _No._ Do you?"

Quinn shook her head; her face finally cracked.

"Can we just-can we stop being in the world for a bit?" Rachel reached for Quinn, who nodded and fell into her. Rachel rubbed her back and clutched her to her chest. "It's alright," she whispered. "It-It will be."


	2. Chapter One

**a/n: **

**1. ~warning?: rated m for a reason. **

**2. i seem to be sort of wandering through this story, so bear with me. **

**3. thankyou to everyone who reviewed/subscribed! it was very lovely to hear from you all :) **

**Chapter one**

**August 2018**

Rachel pulled herself partway through the veil of sleep and reached for her phone, which was pulsing bright white light in the inky blackness of her bedroom. "Hello?" said, tucking the thing awkwardly between her face and the pillow.

"Rachel?"

Rachel sighed and rubbed one of her eyes. "Yes, Quinn?"

"Shit, it's later than I thought. I'm sorry, my flight just got in. I just-are we to where I don't need to call first anymore?"

Rachel chuckled through the haze. "Yes, Quinn. This is why you have a key."

"Okay. Go back to sleep. I didn't call. I'll try not to wake you when I get there." Quinn hung up. Rachel slid her phone back onto the night stand and tugged the covers around her shoulders, settling back into the cocoon of sleep.

.

When Rachel woke again, she was pressed against night-cool skin; Quinn's shirt was fisted in her hand and she could smell the undertones of Quinn's floral shampoo.

She pressed a kiss to Quinn's shoulder. "How long do we have this time?" Rachel asked.

"I tried not to wake you."

"How long, Quinn?"

Quinn's jaw pulsed where her face rested against Rachel's head. "Three weeks," she whispered.

Rachel nodded and moved more fully on top of Quinn, kneeling so that she straddled one of her thighs. She pulled away long enough to pull her shirt off, then tugged Quinn's up over her breasts. Quinn's skin was almost blue in the moon-glow, and Rachel thought of feverish ice baths, flesh submerged until the nerves closed off.

Rachel shivered against her and pressed kisses along her sternum, nibbled at her clavicles; she squeezed Quinn's quivering bird-shoulders in her hands and felt the skin warming under her touch. She cupped Quinn's breast with the hand that wasn't holding her up and felt Quinn's hips rock into her.

"Rae," Quinn whispered, pulling at Rachel's shoulders. Rachel pressed a kiss to the inside of one of Quinn's breasts and moved her mouth upwards, over the landscape of Quinn's body, the dip of her collarbones, the curve of her neck, then bit-hard-at the flesh there. Quinn hissed and pulsed under her, dug her fingers into the soft spaces around Rachel's shoulder blades.

The petal-thin skin gave easily under Rachel's blunt teeth. Quinn rocked harder against her, whined. Rachel released the hold but kept her open mouth pressed against the wound, flattened her tongue against it.

Quinn tugged at her again, and Rachel lifted away. She hovered over Quinn, and their eyes locked through the shadows. Quinn lifted her chin, almost imperceptibly, and Rachel kissed her, hard enough that she could feel Quinn's skull solid against her own, her blunt, hard teeth.

Quinn opened her mouth and surged upwards, at the same time slipping a hand into Rachel's underwear.

Rachel inhaled sharply and drove her thigh against Quinn's rocking hips; the heat there had become searing.

"Jesus, Rachel," Quinn choked out between kisses. Her nails dug into Rachel's back, as Rachel rolled a nipple between her fingers, keening at the feel of Quinn rubbing circles between her thighs.

Quinn seemed to tear open, then, to shed her skin, so that the starry void in her burst forth, all dark matter, shadowy heat, and warm, viscous desire. Quinn's fingers found the quick of Rachel, moved sporadically inside of and over her with the uneven rutting of her hips.

A few rocks later, Quinn cried out, clung desperately to Rachel. "Fuck," she whimpered, "fuck, fuck..." and with one more upsurge she came; Rachel felt the ripples of it through her own body, and that, combined with the "_Fuck, _Rachel, _now_," that dropped from Quinn's lips, left her moving helplessly against Quinn's touch as she felt herself swallowed up by the deluge.

.

The sun reached dusty through the curtains, illuminating Quinn's messy tangle of hair. Rachel reached out to smooth it. Quinn sighed at the touch and turned to face Rachel.

"Morning," Quinn said; her voice cracked like ice when the liquid's poured over.

Rachel tucked a lock of hair behind Quinn's ear and smiled. "Morning, baby."

"Do you have to leave soon? You have-rehearsals now, right?"

"Not until three. It's-" Rachel peered past Quinn's shoulder at the clock on the night stand. "Nine now. Breakfast?"

Quinn wrinkled her nose and shook her head, then rolled over and tucked into Rachel's side. "Not yet. I missed you. Tell me what you've been doing. How are rehearsals going? Made anyone cry yet?"

"Quinn, I'm _offended_," Rachel said, swatting at Quinn's shoulder.

Quinn chuckled. "I take that as a yes."

"She was stepping on my cues," Rachel muttered.

"I've no doubt she deserved it," Quinn said, "and you wouldn't be Rachel Berry if you let that kind of thing slide."

.

"How was Arizona?" Rachel asked between bites of her bagel.

"Mm. Hot? We were in the desert. All the trailers were dreamscape-silver to reflect the heat."

"How was shooting?"

"The leading man pursued me relentlessly up until the moment I left for the airport. I didn't know if telling him I was involved with a woman would help or hurt, but I leaned towards the latter."

Rachel was scowling at her when she looked up. Quinn took a bite of cereal to conceal the smirk on her face.

"Well certainly you might have told him that you were _involved. _You didn't have to say with who," Rachel snapped.

"Hm. Yes. I suppose I could have, but it would have taken all the fun out of telling you about it. I'm sure you'll think of some way to make sure I know who I'm _involved with _over the next three weeks?"

"I'll have to think on that," Rachel said, thoughtfully chewing the last bite of her bagel.

"I'm sure you'll come up with something," Quinn said, squeezing Rachel's thigh under the table. "Let's just try to keep it out the tabloids."

"We've pulled it off this long, haven't we?"

.

"Have I told you how happy I am that you were here for my opening night?" Rachel pressed the words to Quinn's neck between kisses. "Because I'm really, really happy you were."

"You may have mentioned it-once or twice-," Quinn said, gasping at the feel of Rachel's teeth against her skin. "But you can keep telling me, if you want."

"Mmm." Rachel nibbled along Quinn's jaw then pressed their mouths together, tracing Quinn's lips with her tongue then darting past them.

Rachel had practically dragged Quinn upstairs after throwing a wad of cash to their taxi driver. She was still humming from her stage high and the erotic notion that Quinn was out in that audience watching her all night. It took them twice as long as usual to make it up the two flights to her apartment, and once there she'd slammed the door behind them, helped Quinn to perch on the edge of her counter, and set to devouring her.

Quinn wrapped a leg around Rachel's waist and pulled her closer. "Fuck, Quinn," Rachel breathed at the heat she felt radiating against her belly.

"Don't act so surprised," Quinn said, pushing Rachel's jacket off her shoulders. "You know _just _what it's like to sit in an audience like that. I've been waiting all night for this."

.

"What time is your flight?" Rachel asked, staring intently at the settings on the coffee maker.

"Seven tomorrow morning."

Rachel nodded and poked at a button; the machine shuddered at the touch.

"Rach-"

"Don't," Rachel said, turning and leaning her back against the counter. "We have thirteen hours. I figure we can keep pretending for the next eleven."

Quinn approached her. "Can we try for twelve?"

Rachel smiled, or attempted to in any case, and pulled Quinn into her arms.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter two**

**January 2015**

**The Second Beginning, Part One**

Rachel is fucking brilliant.

Quinn's found a seat near the back, even though she knows that no way would Rachel be able to see her past the stage lights even if she'd taken a place front and center.

Rachel is the lead in the winter show at NYADA, the only junior in the play, and she's-in Quinn's not-so-humble opinion-the best one up there. But it's not that, even, that has Quinn mesmerized-it's that she's _Rachel Fucking Berry, _and her voice is stronger than ever, and her body is all lean dancer muscle and smooth skin, and she has this _presence_-which, she always did, but tonight Quinn is drunk on it, and it makes her feel like a relapsing alcoholic.

Quinn isn't one for skulking, usually, but it's warranted in this case. She hasn't spoken to Rachel in almost a year; they'd both been so busy, were both so driven, that e-mails and phone calls got few and far between until they'd petered off altogether. She only found out about the show through a NYADA e-mail list she'd signed up for just after Rachel started there. And when the show announcement had come a month earlier, with Rachel's headshot right at the top, Quinn had registered it like a shock to the heart. She'd bought a ticket immediately, then lay awake half the night, anxiety-ridden and uncertain.

As the day approached, she wondered if it was the wisest thing to show up unannounced, but-well, she didn't want Rachel to tell her _not _to come. And anyway, she didn't even have to talk to Rachel while she was there. She could watch the show, heart thrumming, swelling, pulsing, and decide after the curtain fell if she was feeling brave enough.

But she's there now, and Rachel is fucking _brilliant_, and she hadn't anticipated, hadn't prepared herself, for this kind of melancholic yearning. Everything she'd ever felt for Rachel, everything she'd ever held back, sequestered, denied-it was still all right there; it hadn't so much as staled.

So when the show ends, she decides to be [tentatively] brave. She gets her coat from the coat-check and circles around to stage exit, where she again lingers in the shadows, waiting for the crowd to disperse, or for Rachel to appear, or for her heart to actually _burst_ in her chest- whichever comes first. She leans against a tree, clutching her phone in her pocket, in case all of a sudden she needs to turn around and hunch around it for the purpose of avoiding detection.

Each time the door swings ope, her heart speeds up, and it opens a lot before everyone seems to have trickled out. Quinn waits another twenty minutes after the last person until the heaviness in her stomach tells her that Rachel must have taken a different exit. The hand around her phone relaxes, and she pulls her coat tightly around her shoulders against the chill.

As she turns onto a main street, scanning for a cab, her stomach grumbles and twists. She peers up the avenue and then down, finally spotting a yellow-lit dinner a few blocks away.

.

When she walks in and sees Rachel sitting there, alone, her gut pushes and pulls her at once. Rachel hasn't seen her yet; she can still slip away.

"Just one, dearie?" the waitress asks.

Quinn swallows, "Um, no, sorry, I-"

She darts her eyes back towards Rachel, who's seen her now. Her face shows some combination of shock and delight. She's wearing that Rachel Berry smile, though, and maybe that's what does it-maybe that's what makes Quinn brave enough to say, "I'm just meeting a friend," and motion towards Rachel.

.

When Rachel says her name, it sounds like a sigh, an unburdening. "What are you doing here?" she asks.

"Um. Well," Quinn gives Rachel a playful smile and slides into the booth, "I just came from a show up the street." She looks away, to where her hands lay clasped on the table.

Rachel is quiet, and when Quinn looks up again, her brow is furrowed. Quinn clears her throat. "It may or may not have starred one Rachel Berry," she relents.

Rachel's mouth breaks into a smile. "Oh yes? How was she?"

"Perfect," Quinn says, "If a little verbose."

Rachel tapped her shin with her foot. "Watch it, Fabray."

Quinn laughed. "No, but really, Rachel. You were wonderful."

"How did you even find out about it?"

"I have my ways," Quinn says, raising an eyebrow. That earns her another tap on the shin.

The waitress approaches: "Did you want to order something, dear?"

"Could I just have some toast? And a coffee. Please."

When she looks back at Rachel, she hasn't looked away. There's a smile playing at her lips. "You really came all this way just to see me in some stupid school play?" she says.

"It was an _awfully _long train ride," Quinn tells her, "I guess I don't really know what I was thinking."

Just as Rachel is looking a little affronted, Quinn drops the act and settles a hand on top of one of Rachel's on the table.

"Of course I did, Rach. I missed you. And it wasn't stupid."

Quinn pulls her hand away, just as it was beginning to warm against Rachel's, because her toast is here and she isn't sure how long is too long, in any context.

"So. How's Yale?" Rachel asks.

"Good," Quinn says, taking a bite of her toast. "Challenging, but good."

"Did you declare literary studies as your major after all?"

Quinn smiles and nods. "I did. If only I could have seen the look on Russell's face when my mother dropped that bomb."

Rachel laughs. "It's really a shame you couldn't get a picture." She curls her hands around her coffee cup. "Do you still talk to them? To him? ...Is that too much?"

Quinn falters, but, "No, it's-it's fine. I haven't spoken to Russell since just after I moved. My mother usually calls once or twice a week. She's been...extremely-surprisingly-supportive, of everything I've thrown at her." Quinn smiles and looks down. "I've had to tell her a few things this last year that I never thought I'd be ready to, but she's taken it all in stride. I mean I guess after, you know, Beth and everything, she decided not to let me go. And she hasn't." Quinn swallows. "Sorry," she says, "Too much?"

"No, Quinn," Rachel reaches for her hand and gives it a squeeze.

Quinn clears her throat. "So, Miss Berry, what's it like being a star?"

.

Rachel insists on paying for them both, slapping a hand over the bill and pulling it towards her. Quinn holds her hands up in mock surrender and watches Rachel root around in her purse.

"Where are you staying tonight?" Rachel asks, smoothing a few bills against the edge of the table.

"I was just going to catch a cab back to New Haven tonight."

Rachel stops what she's doing and looks up at Quinn. "Don't be ridiculous, that'll cost a fortune."

"I-well, yes, but I didn't make arrangements to stay, and anyway I have class tomorrow night."

"So you can stay at the loft with Kurt and I and catch the morning train It's nearly midnight. I mean, what if you get in the wrong cab and fall asleep on the way and wake up in a tub of bloody ice missing a kidney? I could never forgive myself."

.

By the time they make it to Bushwick, it's just past one. Nevertheless, Kurt's awake, propped up on the couch next to a sleeping boy, both of them flickering in the glow of the television.

"Where have you been?" he asks Rachel as she's pulling off her heels, then seems to notice that she's not alone. "Oh, sorry," he says. He points an eyebrow and his mouth curves into a deviant grin. "Didn't mean to-wait, is that Quinn?"

Quinn steps from behind Rachel and waves.

"Quinn! Oh my gosh, Rachel, where did you find this one?" he says, disentangling himself from the now-rousing boy next to him and moving to tug Quinn into an embrace.

"I found her, actually," Quinn says.

"Oh really?" Again with the eyebrow.

"Yes, Kurt," Rachel says, stumbling as she works her second heel off and reaching for Quinn's arm to catch herself. "Now if you'll excuse us, I'm exhausted from my gold star performance and Quinn has to be up early to catch the train back to New Haven. I'm sure you can find ample time to catch up at a later date."

"Fine, fine," Kurt says, pulling Quinn in for another short embrace and kissing her cheek. "If I don't see you at breakfast, we'll have to arrange a coffee date for next time you're in the city."

"Absolutely," Quinn says, smiling and pulling away. She toes off her flats and lines them up next to where Rachel's dumped her heels, then follows Rachel to her room.

.

"I have sweats, or sleep shorts, or..." Rachel trails off. Quinn is standing awkwardly near the door, still clutching her purse and looking around at her surroundings as though she's entered completely foreign territory. "Or you could just stand there all night, in those clothes?"

Quinn's eyes snap to hers. "Sorry," she says, "shorts would be great."

.

The room is dark, but Quinn's eyes adjust quickly, and she can tell that Rachel is looking at her. "Are you alright?" she asks.

Rachel nods; Quinn hears more than sees it. "Just still surprised, I guess. That you're here."

"Good surprised or bad surprised?"

"Good. Definitely good. I really did miss you."

Rachel reaches for Quinn's hand, resting on the bed between them, and interlaces their fingers.

"I really did miss you too, Rach."

.

"Quinn," she hears, "Quinnnn. Wake up. You're going to miss your train."

Rachel's voice is muddled and foggy. Quinn groans and clutches the pillow.

"I'm hardly averse to spending the morning with you, but I know how cranky you'll be once you've botched your whole day. Come on, Quinn."

Quinn cracks an eye open. Rachel's there, smiling down at her, offering her a mug of coffee. Quinn groans again, but can't keep her smile in check.

Rachel's laughing at her now. "You still take sugar in your coffee, right?"

"Rachel, you know I don't like-"

Rachel's smile gets wider. "You should have seen the look on your face," she says, offering the mug again. "Cream, no sugar."

The cup is hot, and it scalds her before she grabs the handle.

"Sorry," Rachel says, "I should have warned you. Up, sleepyhead."


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter three**

**The Second Beginning, part two**

**a/n: so sorry for the wait. things haven't been well, and i've been buried under deadlines for other writing on top of it. but this one is a little longer than the earlier chapters! and hopefully that i can make some good progress over my very short school break, but we'll see if my head cooperates. **

**as always, thank you to everyone following along. **

**1. February 2015 **

"Hey, Rach. I'm about to go into my last class before the weekend. My train gets in at Grand Central at two. Let me know where to meet you. You can just send a text."

.

**don't be silly. i'll meet you at the station. see you soon! can't wait! *r**

.

Quinn heard Rachel's squeal a fraction of a second before she was crushed in Rachel's arms. "You're hereeeee," Rachel said into Quinn's shoulder.

"I'm hereeee," Quinn said back. Rachel pulled away and smiled into Quinn's eyes, then took her arm and led her out of the station.

"Do you want to get coffee now or drop your things off at the loft first?" Rachel asked once they were on the street.

"Coffee. Now." Quinn said.

Rachel laughed. "There's a place a few stops up. It's a bookshop, too. I thought of you when I walked first walked past."

Quinn looked down at Rachel. The flyaways from her ponytail were caught in the sun, set to a metallic glow, and the way the light washed over her face softened her features. Rachel tilted her head to rest on Quinn's shoulder.

Quinn's chest warmed. She squeezed Rachel's arm in hers. Her overnight bag, slung over her opposite shoulder, kept time with their steps.

**2. June 2015**

"Can I come there this weekend? You've been here the last two visits, and...I want to come to you."

Quinn could hear the smile in Rachel's voice. She looked around her room. Piles of clothing, books, loose papers, dirty tea mugs-all the surfaces were cluttered with refuse. "Um. Sure? I mean when?"

Rachel was quiet for a beat. "Do you not want me to? I don't have to." Her voice was willowy over the line.

"No, it's not that, I promise. It's just-" Quinn chuckled. "My apartment is a disaster. I'll clean, though. Of course you can visit here."

Rachel hummed. "You don't have to clean for me, Quinn. Is this weekend too soon?"

"Not at all. Just be warned; you're small enough to get swallowed by some of these piles."

Rachel scoffed.

"I'm serious, Rach. But don't worry, I'm sure I can find some time to Rachel-proof. I'll see you this weekend."

"Okay," Rachel said. "I have rehearsal tonight, but if you're still up studying can we skype after?"

"Sure. Have a good rehearsal. I'll talk to you tonight."

.

Quinn watched the clock. Rachel had been getting home from rehearsals around nine-thirty all week. She'd been cast as Sally in a just-off-Broadway production of _Cabaret_. Quinn's ears were _still _ringing from when Rachel'd called just after she'd found out.

When her phone rang at seven, she picked it up without looking, expecting Santana or Brittany, maybe her sister.

"Quinn?" Rachel's voice was thick, wobbly.

"Rach? What's wrong?"

"I hurt my ankle," Rachel whimpered.

Quinn's chest seized. "What? What happened?"

"I think it's just a sprain, but they put me out and my fucking understudy in. I mean, can you believe it?! It's just a fucking sprain, I can dance through it."

Quinn winced and held the phone away from her ear until she got the volume turned down. Her chest slackened, some, once Rachel calmed from the verge of tears to an emphatic whine. Quinn let out a deep breath. "I'm sure they were concerned if they're having you sit out," she said.

Rachel huffed. "Well," she said after a moment, "I may have fallen...once or twice. But it's fine now! I iced it for a few minutes. They won't let me go back on." Her voice slumped.

"Oh, Rach," Quinn said. "It'll be alright. Just take it easy and you'll be back right back up there."

"It will not be alright! How could this be alright?"

Quinn cleared her throat, cocked an eyebrow, waited for Rachel to catch up with herself.

It only took a few seconds. Rachel sighed. "Sorry, I just-I'm afraid of losing the part."

"I know," Quinn said, in her best soothing-a-baby-animal voice. "Are you still icing it?"

"Yeah."

"Just take care of your ankle," Quinn told her, "You'll be back up there in no time. Did you get home okay?"

"I haven't left the theatre yet. My foot, it's..." Rachel paused, hesitant. She cleared her throat. "It's throbbing, just a little."

Quinn sighed. "Can someone give you a ride home?"

"I already called Kurt. He's on his way to help me home."

"Alright. Should I plan on getting a ticket for this weekend?"

"No-no, I think we should," Rachel swallowed. "Wait and see how I feel. Okay?"

"Yeah. That's fine. Will you call me when you get home?"

"Of course. But...can you stay on the phone til Kurt gets here?"

Quinn smiled and pushed her work aside.

.

True to her word, Rachel called as soon as Kurt got her settled on the couch.

"Did he give you anti-inflammatories? A fresh ice pack?" Quinn asked.

Rachel laughed. "_Yes_, Quinn. I'm all taken care of. He even put _Funny Girl _on for me."

"Good man," Quinn said.

A silence settled over the line; just as Quinn went to break it, Rachel spoke up. "I could use some warm snuggles with this ice pack," she said, "But I can probably make it to this weekend. Deal?"

Quinn smiled, nodding. "Deal," she said.

"Was-that wasn't too much was it?"

"No, Rachel. Not at all."

"Whew." Rachel said emphatically; her laugh danced down the line.

.

"Kurt speaking."

"Hey, Kurt."

"Quinn?"

"Yeah, sorry to bother you. Rachel was going to visit this weekend, but I don't want her traveling on a bad ankle, and I also know she's not above fibbing to get her way, so I was hoping to get the truth of it from you."

"Smart girl," Kurt said. "She's still pretty wobbly. She's made it to the theatre every day but they haven't let her back on yet. I'm sure you can imagine what kind of terror my home life is right now."

"Hmm," Quinn said. "Sorry. I've tried to distract her."

"Oh, I know. There's something to being able to outrun her though," he snickered. "But if she can make the multi-train trek to the theatre and back, plus to all of her classes, I don't see why she can't make it to New Haven. Anyway-and repeat this on pain of death-I don't think either of us could stop her if we handcuffed her to the radiator. Let's just say she's got something of an agenda this weekend."

"An agenda?"

"Just...be gentle with her, Quinn."

"What do you-"

"Pain of death, Q."

.

Quinn watched Rachel hobble off the train, helped by an overly-friendly security officer. She scowled at him as she approached and snagged Rachel's attention before he could get so much as a parting glance. She leaned in and brushed her lips against Rachel's cheek and slung Rachel's overnight bag over her shoulder.

Quinn had been obsessing all week over Kurt's words. _Be gentle with her_. The weight of them, Quinn thought, had less to do with a twisted ankle and everything to do with the way Rachel had been flirting with increasing openness, the way her voice gentled when she called Quinn 'Quinnie.' Quinn had to fight her heart back into its cavity whenever Kurt's words came back to her; everything she'd wanted was a scratch below the surface, and maybe-just maybe-the last layer was about to be peeled away.

Rachel wrapped her arms around one of Quinn's and leaned into her. "Told you I could make it," she said, fishing.

Quinn rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. She pulled Rachel closer and dipped her head, just for a moment, so that her nose brushed against Rachel's hair; jasmine, something warm and earthy, _Rachel_. "I never said you _couldn't_," Quinn corrected, "I said you _shouldn't_. There's a difference, stubborn girl."

Rachel squeezed Quinn's arm, gave her more of her weight.

"So, how's your ankle?"

"Better. Not...great, but better."

"Are you hungry? Did you want to get an early dinner?"

"Can we just...go back to yours? I just want to-talk."

Quinn's stomach pulsed, the skitter of ripples on a pond. "Of course, Rach. Whatever you want."

.

"I thought you said you were going to clean," Rachel said as she followed Quinn into the apartment.

Quinn _had _cleaned; she'd done dishes, laundry, taken the headshot from that winter show at NYADA down from the wall next to her desk. Her books had been stacked neatly around the room; loose papers were raked into a few mountains under her desk.

"Hush, you," she just said. "Just don't get too close to the closet and you should be safe from getting sucked into any Rachel-Berry-sized wormholes." She dropped Rachel's bag onto the bed. Rachel's back was to her; she was running her fingers along the spines of the books that had made it onto a shelf. Backlit by a strawfire-sunset seeping through the window, Rachel was haloed, a bandaged seraph. Quinn pulsed her fists, willed herself to remain where she was. She looked to the floor, let out a stilted breath.

When she looked up again, Rachel had gone still. She was watching her. Their eyes hooked, and Rachel took a few stilted steps in Quinn's direction.

"I wasn't going to, yet, but-" Rachel let out a short breath, took a step, stumbled, but she was close enough, now that Quinn took a quick step forward and caught her. Her hands lingered on Rachel's upper arms, and Rachel looked down, bit her lip, met Quinn's eyes again. Steadied, she leaned forward, tilted her chin, and Quinn saw the edges of her eyes tilt in a smile before Rachel kissed her, a soft movement, chaste and lingering.

Quinn's hands pulsed around Rachel's arms. Rachel hummed against her lips and pulled away. When Quinn opened her eyes, Rachel's were still closed.

"Please tell me that was okay," Rachel said.

Quinn smiled all the way to her eyes and moved to cup Rachel's face. Rachel woke, and Quinn brought them nose-to-nose, pressed their lips together again, harder this time. She felt Rachel's smile against her mouth.

"More than okay," Quinn said when they pulled apart. She took both of Rachel's hands in her own and breathed warmth over the knuckles.

.

Rachel was already straddling her in a bra and lacy underwear, panting, when she said, "We don't have to do this, I mean-" she pressed a hot kiss to Quinn's collarbone. "Stop me if it's too much."

"You're kidding, right?" Quinn said, gripping Rachel's sides so firmly that her fingers settled in the ravines between Rachel's ribs.

"Mmm. Thank god," Rachel said, rutting down into Quinn's lap and kissing her so hard she felt the neat row of Quinn's front teeth solid and blunt through her lip. "You have no idea how long I've been wanting this," she whispered when she pulled away.

Quinn reached between them and cupped Rachel through lace. "I think I have some idea," she said, "Can I take these off?"

Two days later, as Quinn walked home after seeing Rachel off at the train station, she would find those lacy underwear balled up in her coat pocket, still warm. And, with Rachel-Berry-prescience, her phone would chime not a minute later:

**;) *r**

**July 2015**

"You're sure you'll be here on time?"

"Yes. I'm packing now. I might even be early."

"What if the train is delayed? What if-"

"Rachel, calm down. There's nothing that'll stop me from being there. You just focus on preparing."

"Quinn, I am a _star_; I was _born _prepared. But I need you there if I want to shine. You have to be there."

"I will be!"

"_Okay!_"

Quinn sighed and zipped her overnight bag. "You're not nervous at all?"

"We have been preparing for months and I'm confident that the show will be wonderful," Rachel said, adding, "As long as you're in the audience."

.

Quinn had sat in on a few rehearsals, but the theatre was transformed by the murmuring crowd, a well-stocked bar, the melodic cacophony of the house band warming up. She ordered a glass of red wine at the bar before skirting around the seating area and slipping backstage.

Rachel's dressing room had a sharpied sign on the door; someone-Rachel, Quinn guessed-had added little gold star stickers so that the name was nestled in a night sky.

She tapped on the door twice before opening it. Rachel was sat at the vanity with a stylist hovering around her head. Quinn approached and leaned to brush her lips against Rachel's cheek, presenting her with a small bouquet of gardenias.

"Oh, Quinn," Rachel said, turning to catch Quinn's lips. "Thank you. These are beautiful."

"I'll put them in water," Quinn said, mouthing a _sorry _to the stylist and wiping the extra red off her lips with the back of her hand.

She couldn't find a vase, but there was a carafe of water on a table near the door, so she poured a glass in case Rachel wanted any and submerged the gardenias' stems.

When she looked up, Rachel's reflection was watching her. "You look beautiful, Quinn," she said, reaching for her. "I'm so glad you're here."

Quinn sat with her until Rachel was called up, then went to her reserved table near the stage.

.

Quinn emptied her second glass of wine just after intermission; she wasn't sure if it was the alcohol coursing warm through her veins or lust or admiration or pure, unadulterated affection-maybe all those combined-but she could practically feel how blown her pupils were watching Rachel on stage. On the one hand, she was just so fucking proud of her girl; on the other, she was in total awe that she considered Rachel-that Rachel, up on stage, whose voice gave her a shiver along her spine and a swelling warmth in her chest-that that girl was _hers_. And at the final round of bows, as Rachel took center stage and the rest of the cast stepped back and gave her to the spotlight, Rachel caught Quinn's gaze, smiled, and blew her a kiss, right in front of everyone.

.

"Rach, you were amazing," Quinn said, "Just...stunning."

As soon as she'd gotten to Rachel's dressing room, Rachel had pressed her against the door with her whole body and kissed her, hard, refusing to let up until they were both so oxygen-deprived they were on the verge of collapse.

"You taste like wine. Good wine," Rachel noted, kissing her again, tasting her lips.

"Yeah, the girl at the bar comped all my drinks after I told her I was fucking the lead," Quinn said.

Rachel pulled back and narrowed her eyes. "You did not," she said, smiling.

Quinn just shrugged and cocked an eyebrow.

"Don't you give me that smug look," Rachel said, but her smile was wide. "I'm going to change and wash my face. Would you get _the lead you're fucking _a glass of something? Apparently I need to catch up."

.

"How long do we have?" Rachel asked as she hovered over Quinn later that night.

"I have to leave early Monday morning to get back in time for my classes."

Rachel nodded and pressed into her again.

**4. January 2016**

"I have news," Quinn said, as soon as Rachel picked up.

"Good news?"

"I think so, yes. Really good. I-I went to an open audition last week in Boston, and they've just called to tell me I got the part-I mean, it's nothing big-time, just an indie, but-it feels like _something,_ you know?"

"Oh, Quinn!" Rachel was on the verge of squealing; Quinn heard her trying to pin down her voice. "That's wonderful news!"

"I don't really know a lot yet, but, well, the filming is in New York, starting at the end of the month, so...I mean, they'll put me up, but..."

Rachel couldn't help the grin. "Stay with me."

Quinn's chest unfurled. "I would love to."

.

"You're in a chipper mood today, miss Rachel," Joel said that night. Joel was the M.C. in _Cabaret_; it was intermission, and he was getting his eyeliner touched up where it had wilted with sweat.

"I got some good news this afternoon," Rachel said, grinning.

"And?"

"Quinn's going to be filming in the city," Rachel grinned. "She'll be staying with me a few nights a week for almost a month."

Joel raised a salacious eyebrow. "Well, if Kurt needs a place to stay, tell him I'm offering."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "We're not _rabbits_."

"Uh-huh," Joel said, lining his lower lids. One of the stage hands signaled them; Rachel acknowledged them in the mirror.

"Showtime," Joel mumbled.

**.**

As soon as Rachel saw Quinn at the train station on her first trip in for filming, nursing a cup of coffee, travel-weary and bogged down by her suitcase, the bindings in her chest loosened and she had to blink back tears.

Quinn spotted her, smiled, waved, all blunt teeth and sweet eyes. Rachel tucked herself into the warmth of Quinn's shoulder, taking in her animal scent, loosening at the seams.

A sniffle gave Rachel away, even as her face was concealed.

"Hey, what is it?" Quinn asked, pulling back; Rachel wouldn't let go. Her chest was swampy, flooding. She shook her head and held Quinn more tightly.

"Rachel? Are you alright?" Quinn tried to pull back to see Rachel's face, but Rachel still wouldn't let go. "Okay. Okay," Quinn said, allowing Rachel to cling.

"I'm sorry," Rachel mumbled, soupy. "I didn't mean to-I didn't think I-I'm sorry." Another sniffle, hot breath clinging in vapors to the side of Quinn's neck. Rachel tried to pull it back in, reabsorb the tears, her running nose. "I just-I _miss you_, that's all, and you're here now, and-I'm just happy." Rachel pulsed with a self-deprecating chuckle.

"It's alright. You're alright." Quinn sighed and softened. "I missed you, too."

.

Rachel didn't stop clinging to her all night, right up until she went on stage.

In the morning, Quinn was marked: bruises like spoiled, ruptured fruit smeared and blossomed over a hipbone, the insides of her thighs, her belly, breasts, along her collarbones; marks as stark and irreversible as spilled ink.

Rachel, unblemished, slept heavily next to her, clinging the sheet to her chest, crumpling it in two balled fists.


End file.
